Of Angels and Guitars
by Ayoshen
Summary: Prompt: "Allison, Remy, band of your choosing's concert." The band of my choosing would be Within Temptation.


**Of Angels and Guitars**

"You're still not sure about this? Come on, you liked them when I showed you at home," Thirteen remarked at the sight of her girlfriend fidgeting nervously in the rapidly growing line - or to be more specific, a group of people sufficiently high in number and low in density to trample parts of itself if given the chance. And the chance in question was going to occur in approximately thirty to forty minutes as the security guards start letting people inside the arena. "I'm sorry, but I can't tolerate the presence of Nickelback and Enrique Iglesias on your iPod until you've listened to this. Besides, if you don't enjoy it, you get to do anything you want to me tonight," she purred in the blonde's ear, only for her to hear, and wrapped a protective arm around her waist; you know, just in case. And, alright, maybe the thought of a couple thousand people knowing this heartbreaker was taken didn't exactly sound like a bad idea.

Cameron chuckled at a mockingly high volume, leaning into Remy's embrace. "I get to do that every night, anyway."

Thirteen's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really now? The way I recall it, most of the time one of us, the blonde I think, yes, most certainly the blonde one, ends up on their back way too quickly mumbling incoherent pleas until they escalate into a crescendo of 'oh god' and 'please don't stop' and 'right-'"

"Sweetie?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Remy giggled into Allison's hair. Knowing how shy she was in the bedroom department, countless opportunities to harass her about it just kept popping up and Thirteen hadn't been blessed with the gift of fortitude, much to Cameron's frequent annoyance. (Come on now, no one was listening. Unless House had planted a bug in Remy's purse. Which, come to think of it, was a plausible concern... and a slightly frightening one as well in retrospect.) She was sure Allison would enjoy the concert and with good reason. After all, it was Cameron who had caught Thirteen playing the air guitar (very skillfully, she might add) to Within Temptation's The Cross wearing nothing but a sports bra and boy shorts, complete with a toothbrush in her mouth one night after work. After the initial inevitable session of embarrassment and self-loathing, Thirteen had actually managed to get Allison to watch some of the music videos while Remy made her a quick dinner (fully clothed this time). (And then she regretted brushing her teeth in the first place, not necessarily because of the food.) Long story short, all the "She's so beautiful" weren't directed at her that night. All the painfully and intentionally dehumanizing "Is my honeybunch jealous?" on the other hand, were.

Anyway, Remy didn't make this kind of forbidden pinky swears for just anything. Though she would be lying if she were to say that there wasn't a part of her in a dark, sullen corner of her mind, that didn't wish Cameron would develop spontaneous hatred for the band. For the night, at least.

But once the crowd cramped up inside, leaving no space to move and even less space to breathe, and once Sharon den Adel with her raven hair in contrast with the angelic short white dress appeared on the stage in a cloud of a misty fog, singing _"I can't sleep 'cause it's burning deep inside, like gasoline, a fire running wild," _Remy could tell from Allison's expression that promise had been made for nothing. (She should have phrased it differently, damn it.)

The two wound up kinda-sorta-dancing (in the very limited room they had), Remy's hands settled firmly on the blonde's hips (because that was her spot, ladies and gents, got it?) as they swayed to the rhythm. Occasionally, a magical moment happened; that moment when a slow ballad came up and these hundreds, thousands of people all formed one united wave of hands at the vocalist's command. Allison had never seen anything like it, maybe except on TV. She had told Remy she had never been to a concert for precisely this reason - thousands of people crammed together in an enclosed area wasn't a phobia of hers per se, but the term 'major psychotic hatred' could be applied with surprising accuracy. Yet when this happened, when _we're part of a story, part of a tale, we're all on this journey, no one's to stay,_ how could anyone not join in?

When the last song started playing, the grand finale - the one after the first grand finale, after which the audience decided they would not budge an inch until at least two more songs were played - Remy thought she could see Allison's eyes glisten with tears if she looked closely. Stairway to the Skies. Remy hadn't showed her that one. For one thing, it was a tearjerker of her own. She thought that one was the Allison Cameron of music. And that night, when she lost herself in the music, and hugged her lover from behind, and rested her head on Allison's shoulder; when she closed her eyes and thought of all the ones she loved; playing basketball with her brother and her mother and father watching from the front porch, and Allison starting a snowball fight with her the day before and pretending she wasn't crying when Remy accidentally hit her in the nose; when in the ocean of feet shuffling and guitar strings being bent, she could hear Allison sing for the first time - she knew her lover thought of it similarly.

_Whenever you call for me, know that I'm only one step behind._

"So... still think Sharon's so beautiful?" Remy asked when the two were leaving hand in hand, loudly enough for the entire street to hear because it felt as if their hearing had been permanently impaired.

"Like an angel," Allison nodded, and even though Remy knew the statement to be true, she only expressed her acknowledgement of the response with a disgruntled grumble. The blonde doctor giggled, stunning Remy with a surprise peck on the cheek. "But why spend my days admiring her from afar when I've got my own right here with me?"

That, Remy thought with a pleased smile, she was much more comfortable with.

"So... I guess that means I won't get to do anything I want to you tonight," Allison continued, sticking out her lower lip like a child, and sighed.

Remy thought for a moment. "Nah, I think you do deserve it for your efforts."

"_I _do, huh?"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

Yeah, Remy was definitely comfortable with that.


End file.
